Collective Cans

The search for reason can make you insane
The warmest season can limit the grain
The brightest light can mask what you seek
The sleekest words can cripple the meek
The weight of knowing can stifle your rise
The need for truth can spark bigger lies
The loudest voice can fade to a buzz
The oddest occurrence can alter what was.

Chip

Could any bland automaton
effectively expound upon
expressions of humanity
without the code to spur it on?

As CPUs are brusquely built
who defines remorse or guilt,
the boundaries of sanity,
when simulated tears are spilt?

Emotions set our race apart
they churn in ways you cannot chart
but someday our profanity
may spawn a breed devoid of heart,

compelling art and steamy sex
despite mechanics so complex
they emulate our vanity
with infinitely tighter specs.

Tracks

Neglected ties can jeopardize
the corridors you utilize
to take you where the people care
away from sullen sooty skies

for scathing scum will make you glum
as vagrant as a bitter bum
whose unaware untrusting stare
implies you don’t know where you’re from.

Deadline

I go through spurts of great ado
where spots of rest are fairly few
and then I have those little lulls
where my imagination mulls
the questions I can’t quantify
that boil down to one lone why
which likely will remain unknown
as fleeting days have nearly flown.

Spillage

Does anyone know what happens here
will somebody ever care
about the words I hold so dear
and try my best to share?

The worries of a weary world
encumbered by despair
dissolve within the ink that’s swirled
then dribbled everywhere

in little enigmatic blots
that change the more you stare
but currently just idly rots…
is anybody there?

Curses

Financial aggravation
Upsets the docile masses
Coercing this citation:
Kiss our freakin’ asses!

Bone Us

The flow of gravy ended in the dungeons where we toil
then watching television only makes our juices boil—
the pinstriped pigs should be cut off like us malnourished slobs
their lone incentive being that they keep their (so called) jobs.

Good Life

Again the sun begins to burn
as migratory birds return,
a giant V across the blue
to start the cycle up anew.

How many days like this are left,
how many strands to fill the weft
before we are, at last, bereft
of time to perpetrate our theft

of these few quiet moments here
upon a metamorphic sphere
with (currently) so few concerns
beyond what bounty being earns.

Hazy

All night the trains were restless
clatter clacking east to west
beside that swollen river
ever threatening to crest,

the ebon winged cacophony
that lands here every fall
became an eerie canopy
looming dark and tall;

as lunar luminescence
lingered lightly on the lawn
the promise of precipitance
demoralized the dawn

foreshadowing a dismal,
archetypal winter day
where everything once knowable
disintegrates to gray.

Severed

I’m feeling slightly out of sync
I don’t know what to do or think
for circumstance has shorn my link—

the funny thing about chasing dreams:
despite how close their capture seems
they fade as fast as futile screams.

Management

Convinced that copper has no worth?
Well my friend, have you ever worked
or worn a tattered, sweaty shirt
that (much like life) could not be shirked?

It’s doubtful that you’ll ever scratch
while scrounging for the scruffy scraps
revered by any weary wretch
that keeps resentment under wraps.

The jingle of impending change
commingles with the clink of chains
restricting a respectful range
when class related claptrap reigns.

Stimulus

Already, golden goodness starts to radiate
upon the crusty banks of gritty residue—
as cheerful chirping makes the morning chill abate
secreted dreams of freedom resurrect anew.

Exploding fiercely from the damply dormant sod
tenacious tendrils teeming with ambitious grasp
attempt to overcome the overwrought façade
whose insubstantial surfaces are hard to clasp,

while water reawakened from a crystal sleep
begins to stir lethargically and leave it’s bed
perennial pangs of passion that run so deep
revive what was reserved, but refuses to be dead.

Muss

Substantively we’re hollow
coarsely callow and pampered,
we’ve hampered our advancement
and enhancement through the languor
and the anger that’s our creed.

It all seems so uncertain,
like a curtain separating,
obfuscating an objective
and effective way to buffer
how we suffer and succeed;

but who am I to query,
form a theory or conclusion,
my confusion makes me wary
and contrary to the notion
that commotion fills a need.

Plowed

Institutions fall
rising profits stall
anxieties increase
until you want to bawl

the credit they extend
just wasn’t meant to spend
or dubiously grease
their hidden dividend

you can’t make ample feed
without a plot to seed
but never sign a lease
with harvesters of greed.

Flash

The faster we spin
the quicker we go
creating a din
attempting to know
our place in the mix
and how we can learn
what problems to fix
before we all burn.